Concealed Summer
by saiph240
Summary: When Voldemorts new plot to target Harry involves his relatives, Dumbledore instructs Severus to help Harry disappear for the summer. Can they learn to co-exist until the new school year? All Harry knows is that September seems a long way away with only the Potions Master for company. - AU after OotP
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer – I own none of the characters (sadly) I just like to play with them :)**

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**Prologue **

**A Growing Unease**

"Ah, Severus. You wished to speak with me?" Dumbledore greeted the Potions Master as he entered his office. Snape closed the heavy door behind him and leant upon it a moment to organise his thoughts.

"Have a seat my boy. This isn't you're classroom; there is no need for you to hover over me as though I'm one of your misbehaving students." Snape slipped into the offered chair but not before throwing the amused wizard before him a look that would cause most students to tremble. In annoyance he noted the old man's eyes merely sparkled more.

Severus' own eyes; dark as his elders were light, moved slowly around the familiar room. Fawkes the phoenix was still growing after playing his part in the fight at the ministry three weeks prior. The soon to be Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had always been fascinated with the creature. Not simply for the experiments he could conduct when the pompous poultry deigned to let him collect a sample of his ashes, nor even with his unwavering loyalty, to probably numerous masters over the years. He often found himself wondering whether the old bird ever got tired of being reborn. He imagined his own horror if, believing he had departed this life having to start again. And again. And again. The fledgling phoenix clicked his beak reprovingly at him, as though he knew exactly what the wizard was thinking. Severus sighed and returned his gaze to the Headmaster, who seemed to have become more amused by the silent conversation that appeared to pass between his staff member and companion. He decided to cut straight to the chase.

"The Dark Lord is up to something, Albus."

The elderly Headmasters eyes twinkled as though wanting to reply _'when isn't he?'_ but for once allowed Severus' glare to silence him.

"This is different. After the fiasco at the ministry, I thought he would be in an awful temper. He tries to act like emotions are below him, but really he can strop as good as any Gryffindor caught causing trouble." He stopped to let his words settle. Albus merely raised his eyebrows but did not rise to the bait, as Snape knew he wouldn't. He continued, "He _was_ furious with Bella for a few days, she being the only one left not in Azkaban. However she won him around eventually, using ways only she ever can." Severus snorted "I doubt even Lucius, obsessed as he is, would stoop to that."

"Quite" Albus replied, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"The Dark Lord not only failed to hear the full," he hesitated for the fraction of a heartbeat "prophecy, he also lost many of his recently freed servants, this time including Lucius who had managed to maintain an air of nobility all these years. I expected him to be fuming for weeks, yet he is not. He is acting most curiously. It is... unnerving. I can tell he is controlling someone; by the way he is spending hours at a time in deep thought. The Imperius Curse no doubt. Still it is unusual for it to be the Dark Lord doing it himself. Forcing people to do his bidding is what his Death Eaters are for. Years ago, it was him, but why should he do all the work now when he has willing idiots who will do it for him?" Snape lapsed into thought again, before adding "he is excited. He likes to think he is mysterious, but sometimes his emotions are plain on his face for anyone able to read them. And at the moment he is like a child who's been given the keys to Honeydukes." He looked up from his lap and was pleased to see that whatever reason the Dark Lord had to be happy about, Dumbledore was clearly not. "I just thought I should tell you."

"Thank you Severus." He murmured. Albus deeply regretted using the young man the way he knew he had. Nevertheless, he also knew there would have been no other way to gain access to Voldemort's inner circle without convincing the disillusioned wizard he should do it out of the love he still held for Lily Potter. Times like this, when Severus appeared whole and calm in front of him, he could squash the voice in the back of his mind telling him that it was blackmail with a gentler spin on it. Other times though, when Poppy had to call him to help heal the boy after feeling the rougher side of Voldemort's temper Albus could not hide from the fact that it was he who had sent him there. Sent him there by using the biggest regret of the boy's life to make him feel compelled to go. Severus had already stood to leave when Dumbledore said "You will inform me, straight away, if you get an inkling as to what he is up to this time?" Severus simply bowed his assent and left the room.

Albus sent word to the rest of the Order, warning them to be watchful of anyone high up in the Ministry, or in any position of power, showing signs of the Imperius Curse. When Voldemort was powerful last time he must have had hundreds of people under his control, either willingly or not. Now though, for him to seem extremely satisfied with cursing some new poor soul, it had to be a big catch. The Aurors in the Order often rubbed shoulders with those high up at the Ministry, including the Minister, or soon to be new Minister, himself. If it was someone else, well they would just have to keep their eyes and ears close to the ground and hope Severus worked it out soon.

Dumbledore tried to occupy his mind with some paperwork. He had all the last years OWL and NEWT exam results, and was supposed to be transferring them into a stuffy old book for results that held the last fifty years grades. It was tedious work, but something he would find hard to complete once the new school year started. Minerva usually did this, and he knew she used magic to complete it quickly. In spite of this, he had decided to do it by hand, after sending his worn out Transfiguration professor on a much needed holiday. She may have been released from St Mungo's after being attacked by Umbridge and her _colleagues_ but she really needed some time away from the school after the last year, time not spent in a hospital that is.

He smiled when he looked down at the Gryffindor OWL results. Miss Granger had outperformed nearly the whole year in every exam she had taken. Her only Exceeds Expectations was in Defence Against the Dark Arts, which he was not surprised to see that Harry had been awarded the top grade for. As rightly he should be, Dumbledore mused to himself, seeing as he was teaching half the school Defence this past year. _Ah James, you would be proud of how far he has come. Especially in light of recent circumstances. And Lily, I think you would be both horrified at what Harry had done in setting up his Defence group, but also proud that he was able to help others. As you so often did. _He smiled again when he saw Harry had only failed two subjects. One was understandable, as Voldemort had picked that moment to plant his trap and the other; well he was sure Harry would be thrilled at the thought of giving up Divination this year.

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At the opposite end of the country, Harry Potter was lying on his bed watching the sun set through the window. He knew it would be about half an hour until his aunt delivered his dinner through the cat flap in his bedroom door. The first two days back from Hogwarts he had been free to wander around the house if he wished to, not that he had as the loss of his godfather seemed to make wanting to do anything that didn't involve lying down feel impossible. However Uncle Vernon had come home from work on his third evening back and announced that he would be confined to his bedroom for the rest of the summer again. As Harry had no wish to interact with his family, or venture outside the change hadn't bothered him, although he did vaguely wonder what he was supposed to have done to warrant isolation this time. The small part of his mind that wasn't drowning in guilt and grief also questioned why Vernon had insisted that his school trunk with his books, robes but most importantly his wand were also to be locked in his room with him making them easily accessible. Then he remembered that his relatives did not know that his supposed convicted murderer of a godfather was around no more to threaten them. He briefly considered if, were they to find out, his belongings would be relocated to his old cupboard downstairs before he was once more swept away by the misery that swam on the tail of thoughts of Sirius.

Outside, Vernon Dursley seemed to shudder then stumble for a moment whilst trying to cross the pavement to the path leading to number four and unknowingly the boundary set out by Albus Dumbledore when he visited almost fourteen years previously. For a moment he thought perhaps the last Brandy he'd ordered had been a double by mistake before the memory of the stumble was smothered in darkness and he forgot all about it. Instead he concentrated on entering his house where his wonderful wife would have dinner waiting for him and his Dudders.

There was also the thought that soon he would have a little something to add to the food Petunia delivered to the Boy. He knew it would be nothing dangerous, just something to make the little freak's summer that much more uncomfortable. He momentarily realised that he wasn't sure exactly what it was, or where it was coming from, before that thought was also smothered in darkness until all he knew was that he was greatly anticipating something. _Must be the Surrey County under eighteen's Boxing Championship, Dudley's sure to win!_

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**This is the prologue for one of the longer stories I'm trying to write. As I haven't posted anything other than one chaptered ones before, any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer – I own none of the characters (sadly) I just like to play with them :)**

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**Chapter One**

Severus bit back a snarl when he felt his mark burn that evening. Not only was it painful, but the Dark Lord always seemed to know when he was in the middle of brewing something that would be ruined if he left it alone for a few hours. After breaking to speak with Dumbledore that very afternoon and seeing the Dark Lord only the day before he had foolishly assumed he would have this evening free to continue experimenting. Without bothering to try and salvage any of the day's work, he banished the three cauldrons contents, cursing under his breath as he stalked from the room.

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In a ramshackle old manor on the outskirts of Little Hangleton Lord Voldemort sat waiting for his Potions Master to arrive. He had relocated here from Malfoy Manor after Lucius' incarceration in Azkaban, as the wards around the families land will slowly weaken while their Lord is cut off from his magic. Usually this only happened with the death of the head of an old family until the heir took his place but in this situation, with Lucius still alive; his son will not be able to take control. He hadn't felt it prudent to inform the man's wife of this. Narcissa should be aware if she only remembered her teachings from growing as a daughter of the Blacks. And if not? Well the possible ramifications are only fitting for the family whose head allowed himself to be bested by _teenagers_.

When he had first acquired this Manor, he had been determined to never set foot in it again. He had taken it purely out of spite, a long deserved inheritance of sorts. There was also the symbolic reason of it being the setting of his first murder. There were so many over the years now that very few stood out, but the death of his filthy father would always be one he could look back on fondly. During his first rise to power he'd also believed that it may make a good safe house as Dumbledore would never have expected him to claim anything tying him to his Muggle sire. Now he got a wicked enjoyment from thoroughly tainting the building with the magic his father's dirt-veined family had so despised.

The Potion he was going to order Severus to provide was a little known substance he had come upon several years ago. The reason it was not well known was purely because its creation was accidental. A mistake a housewife made when trying to brew something else entirely over two centuries ago. The only purpose behind it being documented in some of the older texts he had obtained over the years was to warn others trying to brew the original potion, a Fever Reducer, he recalled. A Fever Reducer that has since been eclipsed with an improved, far more effective variety rendering the accidental concoction virtually forgotten. Where normally he would send either a house elf, or Wormtail, if the snivelling rats presence was maddening him more than usual, with a list of Potions he required, he trusted neither of those with one of his closely guarded tomes containing the information Severus would have need of. Hence summoning him.

Despite his blood status, Severus was almost a perfect Death Eater. He was fairly intelligent, especially regarding Potions with a good control on his mind and emotions. He didn't whimper or grovel exceedingly like Wormtail though still clearly submitted to himself as his Lord. He could also take punishments for his few failings without complaining whilst visibly strengthening his resolve to improve. Lord Voldemort was aware many of his other servants muttered, or in Bella's case, screeched about Severus being a traitor to him. He allowed it as he knew the accusations rippled their way out to Dumbledore, encouraging his faith in the loyalty of his Potions professor. Regardless of the old coot's reputations for both giving second chances as well as his failing mental faculties, Lord Voldemort knew the Headmaster was still shrewd enough to have never completely trusted someone both wearing his mark who also seemed completely accepted in his Death Eater circles. The muggle lover hadn't lived as long as he had by being blind to betrayal and manipulation, often employing the latter himself what with his 'I accept everyone' spiel, the revolting twinkly eyes and arms wide open hiding the _as long as you're either loyal to the light or I have use for you _undertones_._

The Dark Lord knew, however that there was no way Severus Snape would ever be disloyal to him. He was Lord Voldemort. His powers in the mind arts were unmatched. Although, he could give praise where it was due and admitted Severus was a strong Occlumens himself. He knew though that Severus had never even thought about betraying the Dark. No one would be able to hide that from him for even one meeting, let alone several years worth! Any who did were tracked down and killed, some by himself, other times his Death Eaters did it. On the whole it was as a result of outrage that someone would dare betray their Lord, then again he was aware newer recruits sometimes assassinated each other in the hope of receiving an advance in his ranks in thanks for sniffing out a supposed betrayer. He left them to it as it ensured only those who were desperate to get far in his army, or those who at least were skilled enough to fend off attacks from comrades were left.

Either way double crossers were eliminated quickly. There had even been that occasion with the younger Black son, Regulus, during his first rise. He still wasn't entirely sure which one of his then servants had actually murdered him. He'd announced during a large meeting that Black had betrayed the cause. Really, from exercising the normal Legilimency scans he performed on the younger recruits, he had noticed Regulus had been asking questions. Delving a little too deeply into things about his Lord that were best left alone. Initially he had been sure it was mostly in awe of his Lords magical prowess as Lord Voldemort remembered the boy had researched him a lot before he had been Marked, but then when he had not responded to a summons the Dark Lord had, for once felt a prickling of unease. It was a shame he'd had to lose the heir to a wealthy, dark family after their eldest was disowned however he couldn't let anyone; even those loyal to him go poking their wands where they don't belong. In any case, a week later Bella had reported that the Black family had pronounced him dead and were now in mourning for the loss of their Heir.

He'd had a sneak suspicion that it was actually Severus himself that had tracked Black down. He remembered them being acquaintances during Hogwarts despite being in different years and Severus had been the type of young man to take especial offence to the betrayal of his Lord. However, there was no memory of it in Severus' mind. He knew though, that the man was powerful enough to be able to Obliviate himself. There were not many in control enough of both their mind and magic to be able to do that correctly without causing untold damage. It took the ability to separate completely that that you wished to remove, particularly from any memory linked to it. Simultaneously you had to draw your magic away from the memory you were concentrating on while still being aware enough in the rest of your mind to perform the spell. This was only an option for memories you wanted to destroy completely, with no chance of bringing them back. If someone else Obliviated you, there was always the small possibility someone more powerful could reverse it at some point as all memory charms left a miniscule trace of foreign magic in one's mind that someone more skilled could follow. However if you did it yourself, this was removed as there was nothing foreign for someone to recognise and latch on to.

The advantages though, meant that even if questioned under Veritaserum you could lie about something. For example, if Severus were to be questioned about the disappearance of Regulus Black he would be able to deny it as, as far as he knew, he had nothing to do with it. Whereas he would admit to the murder if he was merely using Occlumency to suppress memories of the deed, or had removed them with a wand to be stored. Those memories, even when stored elsewhere were still present in the mind though less... prominent. Mind magic was incredibly complex and fortunately, in the Dark Lords opinion, vastly under practised.

A chime, silent to the rest of the manor, sounded inside his head letting Lord Voldemort know someone bearing the Dark Mark had apparated into the entrance hall. Concentrating on the thread of magic now perceptible to him leading to Snape's mark he made it pulse while sending the image of his office, informing the man he was there, rather than the main meeting room used when he was expecting a larger group.

The Potions Master swept into the room, dropping into a low bow just the right side of deferential enough without having to demean himself. The Dark Lord would have snorted, if he ever made such vulgar, ill-mannered noises. Severus was clearly annoyed about something. No doubt the old man and his rag-tag collection of light-sided sycophants had been interrupting the few weeks of peace he got whilst Hogwarts was broken up for the summer. He felt his mouth curling into a smirk and had to divert his thoughts. Recent events had really improved the admittedly atrocious, rather violent mood he and subsequently his servants had been suffering since the catastrophe in the Ministry in June.

"My Lord, I apologise for the delay in my arrival." Snape said "Dumbledore has already got me wasting my time brewing potions for the Hospital Wing that I'm certain Madam Pomfrey could make in her sleep. I also must have missed the clause in my contract that being the resident Potions Master for a school includes providing various draughts and elixirs for the other staff members, their families, friends, neighbours or pets." He added, clearly trying to refrain from rolling his eyes.

Lord Voldemort found himself smirking again. How typical of the old Headmaster. He has a first-class Potions Master in his employ and he wastes his talents on cough medicine and the like for the world and his wife.

"My poor, unappreciated sserpent." He drawled, indicating with a wave of his hand for Severus to sit in the opposite chair. "You are in luck Sseverus. Lord Voldemort has a sspecial assignment he would like you to brew for him."

"Thank you My Lord. You know I always enjoy a challenge, particularly those with the more...interesting results." Severus replied. The excitement, though hidden from his voice, visible in the dark eyes his Master who could always read so well.

"I know Sseverus and this is one that your Lord would trust to no other. Although the actual results of the Potion required are not as remarkable as ones you have produced previously, the recipient certainly sshall be"

The Dark Lord pointed his wand at the book on the desk and directed it over to the lap of the man sitting across from him.

"Page ninety-eight Sseverus." He specified and waited until the tome had been opened, mentally nodding when Snape automatically performed _Libri Tutela_ on his hands, covering them in a skin-thin layer of magic to prevent damage to the old pages from any substances likely to be staining them.

"I trust that you are familiar enough with the ingredients to be able to recreate the mistakes to produce the described results? The author did not feel it necessary to include directions, doubtlessly presuming the antidote recipe overleaf would be more welcome."

"I am sure, given time, I could discover and repeat whatever that idiotic woman did to turn a Fever Reducer into, well this." Severus indicated with a nod of his head to the open page, his speech always more unguarded when discussing his precious Potions.

"You have three days Sseverus." Lord Voldemort intoned, barely masking the warning in his voice. "Any funds needed for ssupplies can be charged to the Lestrange accounts this time I feel." He added throwing a knowing look at the obviously smug wizard. The enmity between Severus and Bella was, after all, notorious throughout his ranks.

"Thank you my Lord, you are most generous."

Seeing him hesitating, Lord Voldemort declared "Sspeak Sseverus. You know you do not have to ssensor yourself in front of your Lord."

"Yes Master, thank you. I am just curious as to whom shall be imbibing the finished product. Whether it is someone I am familiar with to witness and document the effects."

"Ah Sseverus, you're intellectual curiosity never fails to amuse me. Unfortunately this time you sshall not be permitted to personally view the results of your handiwork. However Lord Voldemort will certainly be watching closely and will be ssure to inform you." He paused, "asss long as the ressults are thosse I dessire of coursse." The threat obvious this time from the elongated hisses surfacing.

"Of course My Lord," Severus was quick to agree. "If Dumbledore is to ask what I am working on, although hopefully he will have no need to see me during the next week whilst I'm supposedly completing Potions for the Hospital Wing, what would you like me to tell him?"

"You may inform him you are trying to recreate something from an incomplete recipe. If he insists on more details you can tell him all you have been told is that it is to be used in conjunction with a sspell your Lord is designing. Let the old fool ponder on that for a while."

At that the Dark Lord stood, indicating the conversation over. Severus was swift to follow before kneeling to kiss the wizards robes and with a murmured "My Lord" he swept out of the room in much the same manner he arrived.

Only after the wards surrounding the Manor had confirmed that Snape had departed did Lord Voldemort return to his seat. He knew Severus would complete the potion; the man really seemed to be able to work magic over anything he tried to brew, he thought, bringing a twisted smile to his lipless mouth. He only hoped it would be sooner, rather than later. Thinking about the recipient made him both smirk and grimace. Potter.

The circumstances he currently found himself in had been born from the events during that fiasco at the Ministry last month, when he had possessed that blasted boy. Potter was a typical Gryffindor in every sense of the word. All emotions and little to no intelligence. Granted, being in such close contact with someone, literally soul to soul, whilst the boy was grieving from his godfather's sudden death had been more... uncomfortable than he imagined it could be. Although all that showed really was just how weak the boy was, how easy to break. It hadn't been until a few days later that the idea of playing with the boys emotions had begun to form.

He knew of course where the boy lived, it was the worse kept secret in the Ministry of Magic, but he also knew he obviously couldn't go and visit in person. Dumbledore may be an interfering old has been but that didn't diminish the strength of any wards he'd personally powered. There were several layers to them from what he had been able to discover. The most problematic being the blood wards surrounding the actual house and gardens. Obviously sharing blood with Potter didn't make any difference as to whether he could access the area as the boy's (and therefore his Mudblood mothers) blood ran through his veins now since creating his new body with it. However, any wizards with the intention to harm the boy were repelled, in spite of their blood. The magic would recognise him as an enemy even if he could convince himself he had no desire to hurt the brat. Something he couldn't do as the mere thought of the boy made his own magic lash out aggressively. Then the street he lived on had separate wards to repel wizards not authorised, especially ones bearing the Dark Mark. He had Death Eaters watching the area from two streets away who regularly reported on those who _were_ authorised to enter Privet Drive, meaning mostly those recruited to the old man's meddlesome Order.

Initially the idea to Imperio the boy's Uncle had been to see if someone bearing traces of his magical signature would be able to cross into the house. He had picked the muggle man as he was unsure exactly what would have happened to someone who actually shared blood with the boy, which excluded both the Aunt and Cousin. He had also thought that maybe slight changes in the Uncles personality, cruel little things like snapping at the boy and bringing up his dead Godfather would be an amusing, if not entirely productive way to spend some time. However, through rifling in the filthy muggles mind he came across something unbelievable. The muggle hated, despised wizards completely, with Potter top of that list. In his eagerness to find every little detail he may have damaged the man a bit but that was hardly of great concern. And what details he had found! A cupboard! The little brat slept in a cupboard for ten years! Oh what his adoring fans would say if they knew the boy they worshipped was valued less than most families' house elves!

This had obviously changed things. It also brought into question exactly how strong the blood wards surrounding the house were. He may not have used the magic himself but Lord Voldemort was unsurpassed in understanding all types of magic. Although the wards were evidently still standing he knew they relied on...affection of some kind, familial love to keep them powered to full strength. Knowing the old Headmaster as well as he did meant he knew that the fool would have assumed the boy's family would _love_ him purely because they were related. This was in spite of the fact that he had proven the love the man preached about was fleeting, with friendships and familial loyalty breaking as soon as something better was offered. And Lord Voldemort prided himself on being superior at making such offers.

So now he was casting two spells with one wand, so to speak. Potter's summer was miserable and the blood wards protecting him were weakening a bit more every day. Oh he wasn't deluded enough to think he could destroy them completely without anyone noticing; Dumbledore undoubtedly had some way of monitoring the condition of the wards protecting his Golden Boy and would act long before that could occur. However if they became weak enough during the summer holidays they would never last a whole school year with Potter absent, leaving him without his safe retreat for next year. If he was still alive to need one then.

The boy was also now confined to his room day in day out. Although this was apparently not a new set of circumstances, this year he had his wand with him. He had had to make the muggle insist Potter have the rest of his school things as well so the boy didn't become suspicious, though he doubted the brat would have noticed as he seemed to be far too absorbed in his own _overdramatic_ _sorrow_. Honestly the boy should be used to those around him being picked off one by one by now.

The single room of isolation wasn't going to change even after he'd ingested the little gift from Severus. He knew it wouldn't kill the boy; he would never choose something that could. Potter's death was to be by his wand only, however it _would_ make him feel awful until someone could find an antidote. He was sure Dumbledore would commission Snape, once he was alerted to the situation, to find one so the man may indeed get his wish to see the exact results of his latest experiment after all. Knowing how much the Potions Master hated Potter he'd likely enjoy the effects immensely. If, on the off-chance Potter didn't write to his little friends or Dumbledore pleading for aid there was always the slightest possibility he would use underage magic to release himself from his prison and leave alone to find some help. Mafalda Hopkirk of the Improper Use of Magic Office at the Ministry was also currently enjoying the delights of the Imperius Curse, though this one held by one if his Death Eaters. She was instructed to work as normal; unless Harry Potter's name appeared in which case she was not to alert anyone except Thorfinn Rowle straight away. Then continue with her day forgetting about Potter completely. Rowle was one of the Death Eaters stationed in the Little Whinging area making him ideally placed to pick the boy up if he was to try and abscond from his relatives.

Leaning back in his chair Lord Voldemort turned his focus inward to the link he presently held into the mind of one Vernon Dursley. He thought it was about time Potters bathroom breaks were cut down to once a day, say, each night before bed. The boy would be welcome to rescue that old bucket he used to utilize when spending days at a time in his old _bedroom_, the cupboard under the stairs. A short cackle escaped unbidden from his mouth at the thought before he could suppress it. He'd clearly been spending too much time in the company of Bellatrix Lestrange.

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**Thank you everyone who has reviewed, alerted and favourited so far. All feedback is greatly appreciated :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer – I own none of the characters (sadly) I just like to play with them :)**

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**Chapter Two**

Severus loathed feeling confused. On the whole it was a state he seldom had to endure as it more often than not resulted from a simple lack of intellect or, even worse, substandard, inadequate research. Mercifully neither of those deficiencies could be attributed to him in spite of his other faults. That said, Severus currently found himself, much to his displeasure, able to wallow in the feeling should he desire to.

He had yet to inform Albus exactly what the new task the Dark Lord had demanded of him entailed. These days he preferred to try and work out as much of his former Masters plans himself before he discussed them with the Headmaster, as it cut down on a lot of the old man's rambling, reminiscing and his apparent need to ply all his guests with sweets. Of course, this had not always been the way he related to the man. He could admit, to himself at least, that there had been a good six months during the first war where he had undeniably been a spy for both sides.

When he had first approached Dumbledore asking, pleading for his help in hiding Lily Eva..._Potter_, her son was still only one of two options for that Merlin-forsaken prophecy he had unthinkingly gifted his Lord. He had agreed to spy on the Dark Lord in return for the Headmasters aid, while the Dark Lord subsequently believed he was spying on the Order for him. In truth he was still more loyal to the Dark but convinced himself he could feign spying for Dumbledore without sincerely committing to it, if it kept Lily safe. Still, he had mostly detested his new role, having to play nice with people he had recently been attacking from behind the safe anonymity his Death Eater mask granted him. _Mostly_, in that a small part of him had gloried in the new power it believed he held in deciding what information to pass on to each side. The decisions he alone made determined which people were saved and which of the Dark Lords plans were interrupted.

However, that rush of supreme control had slowly petered out and then vanished entirely. The Dark Lord deciding it was the Potter brat he needed to slaughter after all was certainly a part of it but, more than that, it was seeing the consequences of his fellow Death Eater's actions in person that had opened his eyes at long last. Before, whenever he had been on a raid with his then comrades, he had never really given much thought to what they were leaving behind, not counting the obvious physical destruction. The thrill of the magic being wielded around him, whilst envisioning he was lashing out at the very people who had made his youth almost intolerable (culminating with them stealing away the only person who had made his younger school years bearable), had squashed any remorse he may have felt. The people he had attacked then were nameless, faceless strangers. In his naive yet bitter mind they stopped existing as soon as he left. All of a sudden, being present when members of the Order were grieving for lost loved ones, or fellow members, had shocked him into finally comprehending that the so called 'targets' the Dark Lord had given him free reign to trial new spells on weren't targets at all but people he knew.

That was nothing though compared to when he had started work at Hogwarts. Seeing the reactions of children, children he was supposed to be teaching, after being told they'd lost a parent or brother or sister had knocked him for six. Being the youngest professor on staff some of his students had tried to come to him for advice, or just compassion, despite his less than inviting attitude. Even with his dark sense of humour he had found nothing amusing in the irony of children looking to him for support with the loss of a relative he may very well have helped kill. It made no difference that by then Severus had not personally been going on raids. Potions, lethal potions he had created and continued to supply were still being used.

The young Potions Master had felt sickened that he had unreservedly pledged his allegiance to the wizard responsible for so many people's suffering. The Dark Lord who had captivated him with inspiring speeches of changing the magical world, of improving it and abolishing unfair laws prohibiting certain branches of magic. It was only after Severus spent time in the company of his once adversaries and young children who should have had no part in their elders' war that he at last saw that the banner the Dark Lord was brandishing was nothing more than a smoking cauldron. A poorly cast glamour, which allowed both him and his Death Eaters to attack and kill with impunity. Severus realised he had been fighting for nothing. The promises given to recruit those like him, who actually used the brains they'd been born with, were all lies wrapped in enticing sibilant words. Only the most sadistic were gaining, in that they had the freedom to act out their violent desires without fear of retribution. The Dark Lord had clearly been working towards his own agenda, undoubtedly one which he alone would profit from, while masking his intentions behind the destruction his army created.

Being a half-blood, Severus had never believed in the Death Eaters other 'cause' either; the Blood Status argument. Lily had been Muggleborn as well as being one of the more powerful witches he knew, with talents far outstripping many a pure-blood. His own mother had come from a long line of pure-bloods while also being completely incapable of standing up to her muggle husband to protect herself or her son. No, even before he had taken the Dark Mark he had known that there was no evidence that the 'purity' of the blood in ones veins affected the magic one was able to perform. He had hidden those thoughts in the farthest corners of his mind when the in the Dark Lords presence and had improved upon the mask of distain for those of 'lesser blood' he had used in later school years to be accepted among his Slytherin housemates.

Severus had been ashamed of the initial hurt he felt with the realisation that the cause he had supported didn't exist and the Lord he had so admired in reality cared for nothing but the furthering of his own selfish goals. The hurt had soon twisted into anger though and, in revenge, he had become single-minded in his commitment to Albus Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix.

Looking down, Severus realised that disgust at his belief in his former Master was making him scrunch up all the notes he had taken on his assignment for the Dark Lord. It still unnerved him to acknowledge that small cynical voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that if the Dark Lord had never heard the prophecy and in turn targeted Lily and her family, the only time he would have seen his old Headmaster would likely have been across a battlefield. His mind liked to taunt him, questioning how long it would have taken him to remove the blinkers from his eyes and really see exactly what he had proudly been a part of, if he had never delivered a death warrant bearing the name of his childhood friend.

Releasing the parchment, he quickly ran through a basic Occlumency exercise, concentrating on his breathing and the sound of a simmering cauldron he had perfected to play in his mind at will. Brewing had calmed him as much when he was young as it did now, so when he had first been trying to teach himself Occlumency he had used that background to assist the clearing his mind.

With the humiliating memories of his disillusionment from the Dark Lord safely locked away again, Severus used his wand to remove the creases in his notes and re-examined them. He could see why this version of the Fever Reducer had been replaced. One of the ingredients, Fluxweed, is rarely used in newer Potions as, sometime in the two centuries since the printing of the book the Dark Lord had lent him; it had been listed as an endangered species. Only the most complex of recipes where no revisions have been thus far made, still include Fluxweed. Some Herbologists have tried to grow it in greenhouses mimicking its native environment; however it is most potent when harvested from the wild, for reasons not yet understood. Potion and Herbology Masters alike have spent numerous years trying to discover exactly what it is that affects the potency of the plant as an ingredient when grown in unnatural settings, to no result. Samples of soil, air and surrounding plants have been repeatedly examined from the only place the plant grows, eastern United States, but to date nothing has been discerned from their findings. Because of that, wherever possible, Fluxweed has been replaced with other, either cheaper or more plentiful ingredients. It goes without saying that this normally results in most of the other ingredients having to be altered or removed altogether. That was the challenge when adjusting Potions or trying to improve them. Take away one ingredient or substitute it with a better one, you then have to go through all the other components as there were bound to be elements that now reacted negatively with the new addition. When that was changed more had to be and so on until you usually ended up with a completely new potion. It was a delicate process that Severus, when he had the time, liked to experiment with.

The 'accidental Potion' the Dark Lord had demanded of him hadn't been especially hard to reconstruct in itself, when compared to other tasks he'd undertaken at the man's behest. As the antidote was provided it had been a fairly simple process to figure out exactly what the woman brewing had done to the Fever Reducer she'd utterly ruined. Simple to work out, but impossible for a Potions Master of any capability to comprehend. It was pure luck, depending on the way one looked at it, that the potion hadn't exploded in her face. If she honestly couldn't see any difference between her finished...concoction and what she was attempting to make, well it spoke volumes of her absolute incompetence. Especially when considering she then fed said concoction she'd created to her daughter, more than once in fact, and was still unable to understand why her child was so ill until a Healer intervened. It just provided more evidence to what he had tried to argue with Dumbledore about several times; that some people shouldn't be allowed to even own a cauldron.

In all honestly, what the aforementioned imbecile had done really shouldn't have been possible. How anyone could mistake their stocks of Hellebore for Dittany was unfathomable. They were completely different substances with the only similarity being that, in Potions, they were both often used in syrup form. That though, is where any resemblance ended. However, in a '_Longbottom_ _Worthy Blunder'_, instead of using Essence of Dittany, (specifically grown in magic infused soil and renowned for its medicinal properties) she had added syrup of Hellebore. A toxic substance extracted from an incredibly poisonous plant. While Hellebore _is_ used in a minor number of potions without negative effects on those taking them, it is in very small quantities and a neutralising ingredient is always necessary to remove the lethality of it. In this case, she was lucky powdered Moonstone, another ingredient removed from any newer Fever Reducers, was present as it reduces the most deadly effects of Hellebore reasonably well. Nevertheless if the temperature of the woman's cauldron had been any higher, the amount of Moonstone included would have dissolved and become inert far too quickly, making the addition of Hellebore fatal to any that had swallowed her finished...disaster.

Still, sidestepping the dim-witted woman and her unfortunate daughter, what had Severus in a state of confusion was not actually deciphering the errors that resulted in the creation of the Potion the Dark Lord wanted him to then brew, so much as trying to discern exactly what it is he desired that Potion for. Although it's hardly the first time he has been asked to provide a Potion that will harm, normally it is poisons that are required, ones almost always fatal to the drinker. The unnamed Potion however, would only kill the recipient if they drank cauldrons of the stuff. Any Healer at St Mungo's nowadays would be able to prevent the most serious side effects from occurring until someone discovered exactly what was wrong and the correct antidote was discovered then administered.

Also, while they would still be very ill, the innate magic in any witch or wizard should be enough to avert serious blood loss brought on as a result of the inevitable vomiting, by repairing any internal bleeds in the stomach or throat if, for some reason, the person was unable to get to a Healer. For example, someone the Dark Lord was holding captive? Or even Bellatrix Lestrange; who would, without doubt, take an unknown Potion from her Master and not seek medical relief if he forbade it.

Then again, the Dark Lord has never really appeared interested in the prolonged torture of his prisoners, unlike some of his more rabid followers. He'd always extracted whatever information they held swiftly and then put them out of their misery in a blaze of green light. Any that were kept around longer were normally subjected to maddening isolation and psychological torment over physical pain, something that the Dark Lord excelled in. With the exception of the Cruciatus Curse which, when angered, he hands out to prisoners and Death Eaters alike in a way rather reminiscent of Dumbledore and his Lemon Drops, though considerably more painful.

Deciding it was probably about time he discussed this with the Headmaster, Severus gathered his notes and the replica of the Dark Lords book he had transfigured for Dumbledore to keep; after dousing it in one of his unpublished inventions that stopped it from vanishing back into nothing. The samples of both the Potion and its antidote he had already brewed were slotted neatly into a box filled with new stocks for Madam Pomfrey, which was then shrunk down and placed in his robes before he left the lab he had built into the basement of his childhood home. Only once his father had finally drunk himself into his grave of course.

He always gave a copy of notes, recipes and where possible, samples of the actual potions the Dark Lord ordered him to create to Dumbledore in case something were to happen to him. While the old man was a very capable Potioneer himself, although it had been many years since he had actually needed to prepare anything someone else couldn't do for him, he also knew many other wizards who were able to brew complex Potions too. Either way, should the Dark Lord ever discover his disloyalty, Dumbledore would still be able to provide antidotes to a large amount of the rarest potions and poisons the wizard had used on his enemies in the past. Not to mention the journals full of them (stored in a vault in Gringotts), ready to be portkeyed simultaneously to Minerva McGonagall, St Mungo's and the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry should both his and Dumbledore's magical signature disappear before the Dark Lord is defeated. It might seem extreme and rather 'Alastor Moody' like paranoid, but Severus hadn't survived this long, lying to the face of a Dark Lord, without disarming as many wands as possible.

"Ranya!" He called sharply and waited for the _pop _signalling the arrival of Dumbledore's personal house-elf.

"Mister Severus Snape called Ranya sir?" The elf that appeared, in Severus' opinion, either worshipped her Master too much to disagree with him, or had been in his service so long that their taste in clothing had merged. The cleanly pressed pillow case wrapped around her body like a toga was not unusual on a house-elf, the fact that it was dazzling purple in colour complete with constellations that twinkled and shooting stars that rocketed across her small frame erratically however was. He closed his eyes as though praying for patience before answering her.

"Tell the Headmaster I have completed the first batch of Potions for the Hospital Wing with a couple of _extras_ and ask if he is free for me to Floo through to his office now." She bowed and disappeared with another _pop_. He knew the Headmaster would realise Severus actually wanted to speak with him from his stressing of the word 'extras' as Ranya would pass on the message verbatim and house-elves are notoriously hopeless at subtlety.

Whenever possible, he always used a cover when visiting Dumbledore during the school holidays. With all the students gone, Hogwarts ran on skeleton staffing with the wards mostly on lock down. The Headmasters office was the only one connected to the external Floo network, unless he was absent, then it switched to McGonagall's as either the Head or Deputy had to be in the building, in case of emergency, but mainly for simply granting access to those like himself, or Pomona who had to tend to the greenhouses once a week. During the school year he could just floo from his own office with no one being any the wiser but whilst at Spinner's End there was always the slim possibility the Dark Lord was having someone observe his house. He would be able to notice most monitoring spells, even if he was unable to remove them without inciting the wizard's ire. However until now, no wards to bar entry to an Animagus had been invented as it would be fraught with complications. Regrettably, it is still impossible to identify individual magical signatures when in Animagus form so a ward that would repel that rat Pettigrew would also prevent Minerva from entering a place. Then that's not forgetting the fact that the Dark Lord is a Parselmouth as well and has used serpents in the past to spy for him, even as recently as this last year, as Arthur Weasley discovered the hard way. It was just safer to act as though he was being observed whenever at Spinner's End, than to have to pay the consequences for the Dark Lord hearing something that may cost the Order their only spy.

"Mister Severus Snape sir? Master Headmaster Albus be saying you's free to floo now. He be needing distracting from dratted paperworkings sir." Ranya announced with a happy grin.

"Thank you Ranya. Tell him I'm coming through now", Severus replied as he headed towards the only fireplace in his house. Taking a pinch of Floo Powder from the mantelpiece he threw it down before intoning "Hogwarts, Headmasters Office!"

After the usual brief spell of discomfort he stepped out of the hearth at the other end to see Dumbledore directing Ranya to place a tray she had obviously just retrieved on to his desk. He couldn't prevent the roll of his eyes when the old mad man actually patted his elf's head in thanks while she gave him a toothy, beaming smile in return.

"Two visits in two days my boy! You're spoiling me." Dumbledore declared with a smile disturbingly similar to that of his house-elf's. "Take a seat, take a seat. I understand you have some Potions for us and some _extras._" He added with a hugely exaggerated wink, relaxing back once Severus sat in the offered chair.

"Exactly how much sugar have you consumed today Albus?" Ignoring for the moment what it was he had actually come to speak about.

"Oh you know how it is Severus. I need some incentive to complete all this paperwork. I reward myself with something tasty each time I finish a document. You just happen to have interrupted me while signing the Graduation Letters to be sent out with the NEWT results, and well, the letters are already written I simply have to address the Certificate and sign my name at the end of each one."

"So you have been polishing off a sweet each time you finish one, even though they only take about a minute to complete? Of course you have." Severus sighed. "When does Minerva return again?"

Despite the wounded look he was trying to sport, Dumbledore's moustache twitched in amusement at the younger man's exasperated tone.

"Minerva is taking a well earned holiday after that nasty hoo-ha with Madam Umbridge and her associates-"

"I'd hardly call four Stunners to the chest 'hoo-ha' Albus" Severus muttered.

"-but I am perfectly capable of carrying out the tasks she usually performs as well as my own, I can assure you." He continued as though there had been no interruption. "However, you are more than welcome to take a stab at that pile of...nonsense Fudge has decided to try and bury me with if you're feeling a little underworked my boy." Dumbledore indicated a two foot high pile of parchment with a nonchalant wave of his hand. It was on the floor and currently appeared to be being used as a table for an immobilised, half-completed chess game Albus had no doubt been playing against the portraits of Hogwarts former Heads.

"I don't remember _ever_ feeling underworked Headmaster and believe I have quite enough to be going on with just now thank you." Severus was quick to reply, knowing that the old man would be more than willing to lumber him with plenty of pointless and incredibly dull tasks should he even hint at being bored. "Are you planning on ignoring all letters pleading for support from Fudge until he is inevitably kicked out of office after which you can happily destroy them?"

"What a splendid idea Severus! I'll continue to give them a cursory glance but for as long as he is still harping on about setting up a public meeting between him and Harry they can carry on contributing to my fine new Chess table."

"A meeting between Fudge and Potter?" Severus snorted, "After everything that man said about the brat this year, I'm surprised Potter isn't out there using his newly recovered popularity to whip up the mindless masses into lynching Fudge whenever he exits the Ministry."

"Now Severus, you know Harry wouldn't do that. Although in this case I'm not so certain the people won't be calling for his head without any stirring of the cauldron. If a vote of no-confidence isn't cast soon I'm not sure the public will be able to keep themselves composed. A riot tearing through Diagon Alley is all we need barely a fortnight after Voldemort's finally revealed himself."

Dumbledore seemed to glare at the pile of parchment bearing the M.O.M. insignia, as though hoping Fudge would feel his annoyance with him. Severus waited a few moments for him to snap out of it, before giving up and pointedly clearing his throat.

"My apologies. Anyway moving away from the steadily darkening clouds currently obscuring the Ministry, I don't believe this was a purely social call. Not that I don't enjoy your company my dear boy, but I seem to recall something about _extras_ being mentioned prior to your visit?"

"The Dark Lord summoned me, again, yesterday evening. Completely ruining the advances I was making on reducing the addictive quality of the Dreamless Sleep Potion and" Severus caught sight of the amusement in Albus' eyes as his tone took on what, to his embarrassment, could only be described as a whining quality. Rather than giving the old man chance to call him on it, he quickly amended what he was going to say. "And he gave me an unusual task."

"I had surmised as much from your wanting to meet once more after gracing me with your presence only yesterday. Before you continue, is tea going to be suitable for the following conversation or would you prefer something a little stronger. Ranya has provided us with a selection of refreshments as I must confess to being unsure whether Voldemort requiring your company again so soon meant good news or not." Albus asked, his jovial manner sobering slightly.

Severus hesitated before slowly saying "...I'm not sure either and_ I_ know what he wanted." He paused again then added, "How about I explain and then you serve the drinks?"

Albus nodded for Severus to continue and listened to his description of the meeting between himself and Lord Voldemort. Accepting the copy of the new book the young man had created for him he, for the hundredth time, mentally marvelled at the inspired idea of utilising potions on transfigured material to prevent them from returning to their original states. That sort of creative thinking is what made Severus such an unrivalled Potions Master; as to most, where even the thought of liquid on parchment would seem like a one way street to ruined notes, he had instead seen a way to preserve. Genius! He turned, when directed, to the correct page and read through both the books print and the additional comments Severus had added.

"As you can see, the finished product doesn't even have a name; it is simply the results of one brainless woman's sheer lack of Potions ability. It only took me until this morning to calculate, from the ingredients needed in the antidote on the following page, exactly what it was she had done. If there wasn't the further information about her daughter's treatment with the Healer involved I'd be inclined to say the so-called errors were deliberate. However, apparently Longbottom isn't the most abysmal Potion maker in history, something that would no doubt cheer his Grandmother up should she hear of it." Severus ignored the Headmasters look of reproach by flicking through and offering him the pages he had written on the effects the potion will have on any who were to drink it now, taking into consideration the slight differences in the quality of some ingredients used in comparison to what they were like two hundred years ago.

Obviously not impressed with Dumbledore's muttered "Curious", Severus raised an eyebrow in a silent demand for him to elaborate. "'Curious' as in I can see why this has you slightly baffled my boy. This really is not Voldemort's usual style, overlooking the obvious initial painful side effects of course. So unless he has suddenly had an attack of conscience and decided in the future to abstain from murder and irreversible torture, an idea so sadly ludicrous it would be a waste of our time to even contemplate it, I wonder who his intended target could be?"

When the Headmaster summoned a quill and started jotting down his own notes on a spare piece of parchment, Severus accepted that he had lost him to his thoughts for the moment and instead set about helping himself to the tea Ranya had supplied. He didn't bother masking the wave of his wand, checking for anything foreign that ought not to be present. Dumbledore understood it wasn't a slight against either himself or his elf. Their notorious loyalty to their masters didn't protect house-elves from succumbing to the Imperius curse or a number of other Compulsion spells that could encourage them to slip something into food they were preparing. In fact, if you could get access to someone's house-elf it was an incredibly easy way to poison their master as few ever checked food or drinks provided by a creature believed to be bound and loyal to them alone. Severus let his mind drift for a few minutes until Albus interrupted the silence.

"Severus, what would happen if this potion was not ingested by someone with magic? If a Muggle were to take it instead?"

The Potions Master froze for a minute before cursing himself for even overlooking this possibility. He rushed around to Albus' side and began riffling through all the notes now spread across the Headmasters desk. Impulsively snatching the quill Dumbledore was holding out of his hand, he started writing. He didn't notice the old man stand and move over to the tea tray, nor did he notice when he himself sat down in the Headmasters chair. Albus waved his hand to quiet the protests the latter move had provoked from some of the portraits covering the walls and watched the younger man in entertainment, finally seating himself in the chair Severus had vacated in his mad-dash around his desk.

"I must say it has been quite some time since I've been seated on this side of my office. A great many years indeed. I'd forgotten quite how intimidating it can be with all those faces looking down on you." Albus intoned once the high-speed scratching of the quill seemed to be slowing down.

Severus seemed to be momentarily confused before he realised exactly where he was seated and stood from the chair so quick it looked to have sent an electric shock through him, tripping on one of the carved clawed feet on the desk in his haste to move.

"I apologise Albus, I di-"

"No need, no need, it's quite alright my boy. Sudden intellectual travels of the mind often leave the body feeling rather left out." Albus replied, chuckling at Severus' uncharacteristic inelegance "I think it was more shocking to some of my predecessors than I, although you are, I believe, the first Slytherin to sit there since Phineas Nigellus was Headmaster. Is that correct Phineas?"

"You know darn well it is Albus Dumbledore!" One of the portraits sneered in a cold voice. "It's high-time someone with the proper mindset occupied your position again. No Slytherin would allow the students to get away with half the things you turn a blind eye to every year!"

"Anyway Severus, if we could turn back to Voldemort's latest puzzle, what did you conclude?" Dumbledore asked, after making his way back to the high-backed chair behind his desk while the Potions Master returned to the visitor's seat he didn't recall leaving.

"Anyone without an accessible magical core, so Muggles and Squibs who took that Potion, would probably die, after suffering through quite a lot of pain. Barring the Hellebore, many of the other ingredients are at least mildly toxic to those without the safety of magic, as most Potions are to Muggles, but the Hellebore in this case would probably result in Haematemesis." Seeing Albus was unfamiliar with the Muggle definition he explained, "vomiting blood. It is classed as a medical emergency and, depending on the amount of blood being lost, can lead to cardiac arrest."

"I see." Dumbledore said softly, his bushy eyebrows frowning in consternation.

"Although the Muggle healthcare in this country is much better now than two hundred years ago, their usual procedures to halt the blood loss and prevent Hypovolaemic shock would not actually remove the poison in the patients system. The Potion would be constantly attacking their throat, stomach, anywhere it touched in their body in reality. And unlike someone with magic, this process would happen incredibly quickly, rather than over several days.

"If it was just Hellebore in itself, they probably have antidotes to that now, but examining a blood sample to determine the cause of the problem wouldn't show Hellebore as the poison. Any Potion made by a wizard, their magic is absorbed during the brewing process making the individual ingredients become unidentifiable. Only someone else with magic would be able to decipher the sample, and then only a skilled Potioneer could truly understand it."

"Well, this changes the lethality of the Potion you've been tasked with slightly." Albus murmured, obviously more than a little concerned by Severus' frank explanation.

"Do you really think that he could be aiming at Muggles? Or a specific Muggle with this? He hasn't ordered me to make cauldrons of the stuff so it's not like he is going to try and poison, I don't know, London's main water supplies or something is it?" The younger man asked.

"No Severus, I do not think Lord Voldemort has quite set his sights on complete Muggle genocide just now. There are far too many people in the Wizarding World he is dedicated to removing first. However that doesn't mean that this Potion isn't going to a specific person on whom it would be fatal for. After speaking to you yesterday, we have already arranged for Kingsley Shacklebolt to move over to guarding the Muggle Prime Minister. There have been a few reports of someone junior in his office acting irregular and although this does not sound quite like the person Voldemort would be so excited about cursing, it still warrants looking into." Dumbledore said. "How long do you have to complete the Potion Severus?"

"The Dark Lord gave me three days; however I was planning on delivering it to him tomorrow morning. If it pleases him enough he may speak more freely on who he is going to be giving it to." Severus answered with a twisted grimace. He stood abruptly and removed the Potions case from his pocket and resized it with a wave of his wand. "If I learn nothing new, I shall return on Monday with the next batch of Potions for Madame Pomfrey. The two labeled 'P+' and 'P-' are this Potion and it's antidote under the normal stasis charms. If you rename them as you are wont to do, please write the names on the corresponding pages in the book as they will copy over to mine as well."

"Thank you Severus" Albus stood as the young man headed towards the fireplace and removed the two Potions indicated from the box. "I shall see you in three days if I don't hear from you before."

Once Severus had left, no doubt to brood over exactly what his latest creation would be doing to someone, Dumbledore called for his house-elf and waited until the magnificently dressed creature appeared. "Could you please take this crate of Potions and put them in their correct places in the Hospital Wing for me, my dear?"

Albus returned to his desk and gazed at the innocent looking Potion vials left behind. He didn't enjoy this wait-and-see game that Voldemort seemed to be forcing them to play at the moment. Maybe he should contact Arthur Weasley as the man gave the impression of being rather clued in on the Muggle world, especially when compared to himself, who hadn't been there for years. Probably not since he had left little Harry at his relatives home all those years ago in fact. Picking Severus' meticulous notes back up, he sighed as he scanned them again. _What are you up to now Tom? _

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**Thank you everyone who reviewed, favourited and alerted. This chapter was quite a bit harder to write as I'm anxious to get further into the story with Harry, but have to get past the beginning first. As always, all feedback is greatly appreciated :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer – I own none of the characters (sadly) I just like to play with them :)**

******A.N. I'm so sorry for how long this took to post. The first part I wrote and rewrote four times before deciding to delete the whole thing and leave it for a while as it was frustrating me more trying to get it done. I figure there is no point in writing if you're not actually enjoying doing it. Hopefully the next chapters won't take anywhere near as long, but I would rather wait a while and be happier with what I've written than just post something for the sake of posting.**

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**Chapter Three**

Having only been back from Hogwarts for a week and five days, even if all but the first three had been spent locked in the same room; Harry would normally have just about readjusted to the thought of a long monotonous summer away from the Wizarding world and all the people he cared for. In regular circumstances it was something that he rarely complained about and with the way he had been feeling at the end of last term, he hadn't expected to really care at all about having only the Dursleys as company for the coming months.

Yet at the moment he was curled up under the window in his small bedroom, wishing that Scotland was a bit closer so Hedwig could fly there all the faster. Of course that was based on the assumption that Professor Dumbledore was even spending his holiday at the school. He could be anywhere, although if he was somewhere closer, like Grimmauld Place, it would make Hedwig's journey all the shorter. A small part of his mind acknowledged that, for the first time he was aware of, Harry had written to an adult for help instead of trying to take care of things himself. However even if he were free to leave his room and summon the Knight Bus to either the Burrow or even St Mungo's he didn't think he had the energy to actually walk down the stairs in his current condition. _And wasn't that embarrassing to admit, even in his mind._

Regardless of his less than stellar current condition, following his conversation with the Headmaster at the end of term, he understood that for once it would be best to get his advice before he did anything else. Granted during the actual conversation his emotions had been see-sawing between overwhelming grief and uncontrollable anger, afterwards he did recall enough to finally understand how important the wards surrounding Privet Drive are. When considering how deadly the results of Professor Quirrel's attack could have been in his first year if he hadn't had the blood protection he was currently powering shielding him, spending at least two weeks here in his relatives company, in his..._home_, wasn't a big sacrifice. Thus the need for advice as that two week mark hadn't yet passed and Harry was starting to believe something was definitely wrong with both the Dursley's and himself.

True in the beginning he had not cared one whit about the re-emergence of his Uncle's desire to keep him locked up, since then though, things had gone downhill fast. On Thursday, Vernon had suddenly proclaimed that Harry was only to be released from his room once every evening for a five minute trip to the bathroom. Despite how furious the man had been after the 'Dobby fiasco' before second year Harry had still been released twice a day then, for toilet breaks and a quick wash, and he could not think of anything worse he was supposed to have done since. The depression he had been drowning in since his fool-hardy venture to the Ministry last month had flickered and it had taken him a moment to recognise the new feeling. Anger. This only intensified when the man then had the audacity to place a rather familiar bucket in his room, one he hadn't seen and in fact had tried not to think of for several years, wearing a smirk on his face that wouldn't have looked out of place on any Hogwarts student wearing green and silver. Even Aunt Petunia had protested, stating it had been different when he slept downstairs but now the smell from any...mess he made would linger near where _they_ slept as well. Harry hadn't bothered pointing out that she'd never been concerned before when he was forced to do that just outside of the place where they prepared and ate all meals, as it was unusual enough for Petunia to be standing up to Vernon, especially for him, even if it was in a roundabout way.

She had even gone so far as to let him out herself the next day whilst Vernon was at work. That evening though, the obese man had actually checked his..._the_ bucket and upon realising it hadn't been used had confiscated the keys to the locks on Harry's door so only he would be able to release him.

Then on Saturday morning Harry had woken to them both having a blazing row about the situation. Aunt Petunia had come up with all sorts of excuses to change Vernon's mind,

'_It's not hygienic to have our Diddydums sleeping in a room with that boy's waste next door'_

'_The boy might get dangerous ideas if we just let him laze about all day when there are plenty of jobs around the house he could be making himself useful with. It's a shame not to use him while he's back for the summer_.'

'_If the weather stays this warm there is bound to be a smell lingering upstairs. He doesn't wash enough as it is but we don't want any guests or, Heaven forbid, the neighbours thinking we are unsanitary.'_

'_You were only saying last month Vernon how you wanted the banisters on the stairs and landing repainted and the garden needs a lot of work done to it if we don't want people to start wondering if we are letting ourselves go.'_

All arguments in fact that Vernon normally put forward himself for keeping Harry busy, out of their way and to justify the need for allowing him regular hot showers. The real shock had been hearing Vernon reply scathingly with _'maybe if you got up and did some of those things yourself while I'm at work all day there wouldn't be so many jobs you could try and palm off onto the boy.' _He had never heard the man speak to anyone but Harry himself like that, especially not his wife. Oh, he spoke _about_ most people he knew with disdain when they weren't present but was normally polite to the point of sucking up when face-to-face. It was like imagining Petunia punishing Dudley or...or abandoning her rubber gloves, throwing down her mop and asking Harry to whip out his wand to clean the kitchen after a meal. It just didn't happen.

When Petunia's poisonous tongue had automatically responded with the cutting barbs she normally worked so hard suppress, Harry was certain he had heard Vernon lash out physically. He couldn't be sure what had happened exactly, being a floor away, whether the man had simply thumped his fist on a counter, thrown something or he'd actually struck Petunia (a thought Harry would never have even entertained last year) but there was definitely a thud followed by his Aunt's cry of shock. Either way the argument had ended abruptly with his Uncle storming out of the house to wherever he'd then spent his free day from work and Petunia had hidden herself away in their bedroom, going so far as to ignore Dudley's bellows for lunch before eventually telling him to take some money from her purse to buy himself something out.

A tense atmosphere had seemed to spread itself through the house during the rest of the day, one Harry could feel regardless of the fact that he'd yet to see any of his relatives and from what he had heard their evening meal had been mostly silent, doing nothing to improve matters. Afterwards Petunia had retreated back to their bedroom and it was Vernon who had pushed the bowl of soup that made up Harry's recent diet through the cat-flap in his door. Harry had genuinely thanked the man for once as he'd been slightly concerned that with Petunia not doing it, he'd be forgotten for the night. About an hour later, around ten o'clock, Harry had been let out of his room for the first time that day where he'd gratefully relieved himself in the bathroom and washed his face as quickly as he could. It hadn't been until about three in the morning that he'd woken with stomach cramps.

Initially Harry had tried to ignore it, assuming it was his body trying to adjust to the shock of switching to another liquid diet after a full year of Hogwarts food. However it had only gotten worse until, by the time his relatives had woken he was curled up, feeling as though his throat was burning and his stomach trying to digest itself. As soon as he'd heard Petunia heading downstairs to prepare breakfast he'd uncomfortably shuffled to his door and pleaded with her to get Vernon to let him out as he was ill, only to have her refuse harshly. When Sunday evening had arrived Harry felt awful. He had tried to spread out the water that had been stuck through the door intermittently but the burning in his throat had spread down to join the cramps in his stomach and so he'd run out about an hour before his last meal was delivered. Although the thought of the rest of the tin of lumpy vegetable soup he'd been given the night before wasn't very appealing it was at least something to line his belly with which would he had hoped would help.

When Vernon had once more released him for his bathroom break he had sneered in disgust at the sweaty mess Harry had become in the twenty-four hours since he'd last seen him and told him to clean up after himself properly in case he was contagious. Even with knowing he wouldn't be able to use the loo again until the same time the next day, Harry hadn't been able to prevent himself from gulping water from the bathroom sink like a dying man. He'd also refilled two of the two litre bottles he'd been delivered that hadn't yet been collected.

That night had been one of the most uncomfortable he remembered experiencing at Privet Drive. He'd tried to distract himself with anything he could think of, even going so far as to try and clear his mind completely like Snape had been demanding from him the previous school year. Unhelpfully, all thoughts of Snape brought on though were thoughts of Potions and the bitter realisation that if he was at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey could probably have cured him from a stomach bug with a potion in minutes.

As incensed as Harry had been when Vernon first deposited the bucket in his room, that night he became simply thankful that he didn't have to attempt to move from the ball he'd curled himself into and stumble to the bathroom (had he been allowed) when the vomiting started. It seemed like an acceptable use for it as he vaguely remembered Petunia placing one by Dudley's bed when he had had food poisoning when they were little. He couldn't prevent the slight sting of shame though, that he'd needed to use it as a toilet too by Monday morning, despite his determination not to. However with how he was feeling by then it seemed like a small price to pay for being able to keep sipping the water he'd bottled as each sip soothed his burning throat for a few minutes.

Vernon had once more taken the keys to his door to work with him that day so Harry hadn't bothered trying to plead with his Aunt to let him out. She could obviously hear him being regularly sick as she had put more things through the cat-flap than he was expecting. Apart from the usual slice of toast he had been receiving for breakfast since being locked in, she also pushed through a couple of old towels that had been soaked in cold water which were heaven to his sweaty chest and face and half a carton of orange juice that wouldn't be missed as it was apparently important he took in vitamins as he was ill. She had tried to say it in her usual snide way while implying that she didn't want her Dudders to catch anything from him but for once he had actually heard concern in her voice as well. This was further highlighted around lunch time which had until then been ignored, when she had delivered him another bottle of water that had clearly been in the fridge for a few hours and some dry bread which she said was to line his stomach or at least _'to give you something to vomit to stop that horrible dry-retching noise resounding throughout the house'._ Part of Harry had been glad that she couldn't actually open the door as he'd felt completely pathetic with the way he'd had to crawl to the door after finding out standing was starting to make the room spin.

He knew it was Petunia that had delivered more of the soup he was beginning to hate that evening as it had come accompanied by two plain bread rolls. He had chewed on the bread thickly because his tongue felt too big for his mouth before deciding to soak them in a bit of water as he couldn't stomach the thought of more soup. He'd watched the hands on the old clock of Dudley's he had fixed years ago tick down the minutes until he'd be let out of his room again. Harry had briefly entertained the idea of taking his wand and trying to get out of the house but, being honest with himself, he didn't think he would be able to get down the stairs before his Uncle could catch him. Instead he had counted down the time until he'd be able to wash out that damned bucket. Despite having his window open as far as it would go, with little to no breeze coming in, the air in the room was stale with the combined smells of vomit and urine.

However, when he'd finally been let out there had been something about the way his Uncle had been acting that made his, unfortunately well trained instincts take notice. Normally, in the past whenever Harry had been ill, Vernon had been short-tempered, and mostly just disgusted by him. Last night though, he may have been sneering at him like usual, but there was something in his eyes that had raised the hairs on the back of Harry's neck. He had been determined to stand and walk his way to the bathroom, regardless of the fact he had to cling to the walls and after emptying the bucket, rinsing it quickly in the shower and refilling the empty bottle he had brought with him again, Harry had scanned Vernon's face carefully on the way back passed. There was certainly a glimmer of glee that, had his Uncle been capable of learning Occlumency, he would no doubt have masked. Harry also caught a glimpse of Petunia hovering in her bedroom doorway studying him from behind Vernon, with the concern he thought he had heard from her this morning clear on her face. She had quickly ducked back inside when him looking had made her husband spin round with an audible snarl. That was what had alarmed Harry most. The argument between them on Saturday not forgotten, she seemed almost scared of Vernon now, whereas they had always appeared to be a united front, especially in regards to their treatment of him.

Once the door was locked behind him again, Harry would have paced up and down had he been in any fit state too. Instead he had collapsed right where he stood and dragged himself back over to the bed to lean against it. He heard muffled voices coming from his relative's room once more and although he could not make out the words this time, the nature of them was clear. His Uncle sounded angry, a tone he had taught himself to recognise from a young age but whereas he knew Petunia was usually well able to hold her own in verbal battles, she now sounded quieter, placating even. Either it had only recently dawned on her that Vernon's control of his temper was comparable to that of the average nesting dragon or... well Harry wasn't quite sure where to go with that thought, but something was undeniably different and not in a good way. He was soon distracted again though when his stomach rejected the small amount of bread he had managed to swallow that evening. The sight of what actually came out of his mouth however, made him feel all the worse. Blood. There was definitely blood in his vomit. A shaking hand had reached for the bottle next to him and he'd unconsciously rinsed his mouth then spat the red tinged water into the bucket.

It humiliated him that despite the fact he hadn't gone to her for help in about ten years, his first instinct had been to call for Petunia. Still, he might have done it if she had been home alone; as he couldn't pretend that he wasn't worried at this point. Actually, if the Uncle Vernon with her had been acting the same as the one he'd dealt with over the previous years too, he may still have done it since one thing they'd always agreed on was doing anything to avoid the chance he could make their precious Dudley ill. However, from what he'd seen and heard over the course of the last week that no longer appeared to be the case and there was a chance he could make things a lot worse for both himself and his Aunt if he further angered the man now. His eyes had involuntarily moved to his trunk where his wand was currently being kept. He'd placed it in there after the bucket was moved into his room, to prevent the temptation to use it. He wasn't sure what the reaction would be for him performing underage magic once more, even if the public no longer thought he was a lying attention-seeking nutcase. Then again, even if he did unlock his door, where would he go in the middle of the night? It was hardly safe for him to turn up at the Leaky Cauldron, especially as at the moment he didn't think he would be able to disarm a first year, let alone on the off-chance he ended up in a duel with anyone looking to capture him.

It wasn't until over two hours later that Hedwig had turned up at his window, returning from wherever she had been out hunting. He'd stared at her for a minute then slowly made his way over to the wonky table where he knew he'd left some parchment. It had taken him a while to decide who to write to initially, as the only adult he'd ever sought advice from before had been Sirius. He'd had to swallow the urge to be sick again at that thought before he decisively dipped a quill in the small amount of ink left in the pot and started to write.

Now, the letter was on its way to Professor Dumbledore, Vernon had left for work, Petunia had once more given him extra food and more orange juice though Harry couldn't actually bring himself to swallow anything as he'd been sick several more times. Each time including to him what seemed like an alarming amount of blood. He hadn't moved from his spot under the window for several hours and just hoped that Hedwig would be back soon with a response.

* * *

At Hogwarts Castle, where Albus Dumbledore was indeed residing for the summer, he was once more sitting behind his desk, a place he felt he hadn't moved from since term ended. The paperwork coming in from Cornelius Fudge and other members of the Ministry had increased dramatically over the last few days as the man tried to cling desperately to his position as Minister. In fact, if kept in one pile as he had been doing the chess table he'd been building would have reached such a height so as to make playing the game from broomstick necessary.

In order to help him ignore it, he had taken great pleasure from hollowing out a rather pointless book that was still legally required to be in the Headmasters office. Why they still needed the Ministerial Procedures Guide for what to do if the castle experienced a serious infestation of any pests or creatures like Doxies or Bundimuns when there had been wards implemented since the book was printed that prevented situations like that from occurring. He'd then cast an Undetectable Expansion Charm on the hole created by the missing pages, pushed all of Fudge's begging letters into it and placed it back on the shelf it came from. Now he looked like he still had an incredibly dull book which he doubted had been opened for many generations but most importantly, he also had his office back.

It was convenient that he was rather good at employing an out of sight, out of mind policy when needed, meaning he only felt occasional twinges of conscience when he imagined the problems the bumbling Minister must be finding himself experiencing presently. A small part of him acknowledged that it must be difficult to suddenly find the man that you had been vilifying is your only chance at preventing you from joining the one you had taken to relying on in Azkaban, but Albus could admit, if only to himself, that after a rather trying year his sympathies only went so far. At this point, even if he had wanted to, he didn't think there was anything he could do to help keep Fudge in office, despite being reinstated as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. The Daily Profit had managed to escape the repercussions of the past year without another stain on their already somewhat questionable reputation by printing what seemed to be every complaint regarding Fudge's administration they'd ever been sent. The issue two days ago wasted four whole pages ranting about the disgrace of the Ministry being so determined to discredit those speaking about anything they didn't want to become public knowledge, completely bypassing the fact that it had been the paper itself doing the discrediting for them.

Albus resolutely pushed all thoughts of the progressively deteriorating scene at the Ministry and the Daily Profits unhelpful "reporting" to the back of his mind. His hand moved automatically to the tray of Sherbet Lemons on his desk and, having popped one in his mouth, he tried to force himself to concentrate on what he'd been attempting to do all morning. It had been many years since he had had to assign members of staff to meet the parents of new Muggleborns, as it was a job normally dealt with by the schools deputy, who incidentally carried out a lot of the meetings themselves. This year, with Minerva unable to do either meant he had to organise it with various teachers around their own holiday plans. It was a shame he couldn't go himself, it had been one of the more enjoyable tasks when he'd held the deputy role, but with her also absent from the building he was unable to leave the school grounds for any length of time.

Eventually he rose from the desk, deciding to take a stroll to the kitchens as he was now finding his eyes kept flicking over to the book that Severus had copied for him containing the potion Lord Voldemort had demanded he brew. So far they had been unable to discover who the intended target was as the Dark Lord had not informed Severus exactly when it would be administered when the Potions Master had delivered it to him. It could well have been over and done with, used on someone in Voldemorts captivity that they were unaware of. The only way they would have found out was if Severus had made an error with the brewing as he would then have unquestionably been summoned for 'punishment'. The fact that scenario hadn't happened told them nothing though, since the Headmaster couldn't actually recall the last time Severus had made such a mistake. Some of his experiments might end in a rather explosive fashion but not when he was working from a set of instructions.

He hadn't even made it to the door of his office however when a very recognisable white owl flew in through the window.

"Hedwig!" He exclaimed, hastening over to remove the letter from her. Taking a closer look he noticed she seemed somewhat hurried, as though she had flown to him as fast as she could. "I'm sure Fawkes wouldn't mind if you indulge yourself in his water tray my dear, or, if you'd rather, you are welcome to go straight to the Owlery for a rest."

Unfolding the rather creased parchment Albus sat back behind his to desk and read Harry's unexpected correspondence.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_I'm sorry for bothering you so soon into the summer but –_

And then there was a long sentence scribbled out completely until it simply read:

_But I'm not very well. I thought it might just be from getting used to food here again after Hogwarts food for a year but I think it's getting worse. It still might just be something silly although early this morning when I was being sick there was blood in it too and I'm not sure if that is normal for a stomach bug or not. I'm also really thirsty as my throat feels on fire and moving is making me very dizzy. Sorry for the details but I wondered if maybe there is a Potion you could send me to make it better quicker so I thought you'd better know. I'd normally sort it out myself, you know maybe go to Diagon Alley but I – I don't think I could actually get that far at the moment without passing out. I'm sorry for writing to you and not, I don't know, Mrs Weasley, but I can imagine her coming here and insisting on taking me back to the Burrow when I know I haven't been home for two weeks like you said the wards needed so I didn't think I should leave yet._

_If there is anything I can take, could you please send it with Hedwig as I don't think my Uncle would appreciate someone turning up. If there isn't anything, don't worry. I'm sure it will get better by itself soon; I just don't want to bother the Dursleys any longer than I already have. Things seem very strained between them right now; I think something must have happened to Uncle Vernon while I was at Hogwarts this year as he has changed quite a bit. He is saying things to Aunt Petunia I've never heard him say before, getting angry with her too and well sorry, you don't need to hear all that._

_Sorry for bothering you again,_

_Harry Potter_

The initial concern Dumbledore felt flow through him at both Harry's opening statement and the unsteadiness of the boy's writing had increased significantly by the end and his eyes automatically flicked back to the book he'd been contemplating earlier.

"It couldn't be..." he muttered to himself; however connections were making themselves known in his mind at lightning speed.

The wards surrounding Privet Drive while not letting through people branded with the Dark Mark specifically, had to let someone tainted by Voldemorts magic in, as Harry himself was. Would that mean they could also admit someone under a spell cast by the same man? He couldn't say for definite one way or the other, it not being something he ever thought to contemplate. Granted the blood wards surrounding the actual building hadn't experienced the usual increase in strength since Harry had returned once more but he had originally assumed that may be due to how the boy was feeling about being back there so soon after the loss of Sirius. However, looking back at the letter, Harry seemed to have finally accepted that there was a genuine reason for him being there, and had even called the building home, which was something he knew he didn't normally do. Could the lack of a sudden surge of strength to the wards actually be because someone else on the inside was now destabilising them? If that was the case, Harry's removal would need quick but careful planning, not to mention that the poor boy would need the antidote to a potion he may have unknowingly consumed.

Of course there was the possibility that Harry really did just have a simple stomach bug he thought it unlikely the boy would have asked for help with that. Knowing from Poppy how hard he normally fought against taking the prescribed potions when in the hospital wing, to actually receive a request for one told him the boy was probably feeling a lot worse than he let on in his letter. The mention of the change in Mr. Dursley's attitude was telling too. While he knew there was no love lost between uncle and nephew, from all reports he'd heard regarding the family, the man and his wife were exceedingly close. And although he knew that relationships did change and occasionally break down, for this change to occur simultaneously with reports of Voldemort's apparent glee at having someone new Imperiused, someone important enough for him to hold the curse himself and then a request for a potion that caused the symptoms Harry described? No, there was too much of a coincidence there for him to ignore.

Albus called for Ranya and once the elf had appeared asked her to visit Severus and inform him he required his presence. As much as he would like to Apparate straight to Privet Drive and collect Harry himself he knew that they would have to be careful. Once the boy was removed, there were still his relatives to deal with. That could pose a problem in itself as if Lord Voldemort really was controlling Mr. Dursley, when he realises Harry is missing there was the chance he may make the man attack his wife and son in retaliation. Severus' input here would be beneficial as while the Headmaster knew Tom Riddle well, Albus had the sort of mind that couldn't help but focus on the positive aspects of any given situation whereas Severus was much more predisposed to perceive the negative. The poor man was definitely a 'cauldron half-empty' fellow.

The Floo flaring brought him out of his thoughts as the man appeared, with a scowl on his face alluding to his displeasure at being interrupted from whatever he was no doubt brewing. He took the seat across from the Headmaster and simply raised his eyebrows in a way that plainly asked 'what?'

"I apologise for tearing you away from your research my boy but I've received a rather worrisome letter from Mr. Potter." When the scowl deepened he added, "I think it might have solved the mystery of Lord Voldemorts recent good mood along with your latest potions target."

Albus watched Severus' face carefully blank, which was always as much shock as the man allowed to show and held out Harry's letter for him to read himself. Once the letter was placed back on the desk Dumbledore explained his thoughts on the matter, detailing what he had noticed about the wards this summer.

There was silence for a while, Severus using the time to organise his own thoughts. This was not a situation he had given any consideration to when he'd wondered about the recipient of the potion he had brewed for the Dark Lord. In fact he tried not to think of Potter at all while school was not in session as he'd found it was a sure-fire way to needing a Headache Draught. Now that he had to, the situation didn't really make a lot of sense to him.

The potion, if that is what the boy _had_ ingested would not kill him, which seeing as he brewed it was something he was incredibly thankful for, but it would undoubtedly make him very ill if left untreated. However, as the Dark Lord was aware of this and no doubt aware that Dumbledore would draft Severus in to make a cure, he couldn't understand the point of it. Was it a trick to see if Severus would indeed brew the antidote? Unless it was purely the Dark Lord's way of demonstrating to Dumbledore that his Golden Boy wasn't even safe behind the wards he'd created anymore. If that was the case, Severus studied the lined face opposite him; it may have worked as the man did seem noticeably concerned. Looking closer he could literally see dozens of ideas running through the man's mind and, from the way he was being studied in return, he would bet his Mastery that he wouldn't like most of them. He decided to cut them off and interrupt the silence himself.

"I shall go and brew another of the antidotes to that potion. If Potter is not exaggerating his symptoms, it would be better to have an antidote made from fresh ingredients at hand, as well as several other potions he'll be needing to get him back to his normal insufferable self. If you are going to bring him here, I can have them ready and personally administer them in a few hours. If, instead, you take him to any place overrun by Weasley's, I'd rather give them to you to pass along."

"Ah but Severus, you forget I cannot retrieve him from the Dursley's myself as I'm unable to leave the castle for the amount of time it would take to ensure he is well." The twinkle in those overly blue eyes suddenly came back to life before he tried to continue, "You on the other hand-"

"Absolutely not!"

"Severus..."

"Headmaster, you seem to forget that not only would the sight of me turning up probably exacerbate any illness Potter is suffering from, but we are well aware the Dark Lord has spies located in Little Whinging. Ones that we do not want to report back to him that I am exempt from the wards that repel people bearing the Dark Mark!" Severus fumed.

"True, true. But I'm certain you are clever enough to think of a way around anyone witnessing you anywhere near Harry's home. I'm sure I remember you having another form that could traverse there quite easily in fact." The blatant amusement being shown now did nothing to calm Severus' temper. "I'll leave the details up to you, but perhaps it would be best to arrive sometime late tonight to give the poor boy the first antidote and make sure he is well enough to move out of the area without you having to use any magic. If Lord Voldemort really is controlling Mr. Dursley then we know he can get people into the house now. It would not do to have him repeat this only on a witch or wizard with access to the building and have them detect any traces of your magic."

"The Uncle would no doubt be home from work by then, if he is still attending while having the Dark Lord unhinging his mind. What would you have me do, play sleepover in Potter's room for the night and wait until the house is empty tomorrow to sneak out?" The tone of voice this was spat in expressed exactly how ridiculous Severus thought the man was being but to his dismay his employer only chuckled at him.

"I don't think you would appreciate me calling it a sleepover Severus, but the boy will surely need some monitoring during the night if he really has been dosed with a potion not used for over two hundred years and is about to be given it's antidote." Albus paused once more then continued in a musing tone "if it should work out well and you and Harry can survive the night together, maybe this could be a way to keep you both safe until school resumes in September."

After opening and closing his mouth several times Severus managed to grind out "What exactly are you hinting at Albus?"

"Oh merely that this might be just what we need. I'm sure we can think up some reason to pass on to the Lord Voldemort for why I require your presence in the castle for the rest of the holidays, and you can also truthfully tell him that I have hidden Harry away somewhere with a member of the Order I trust completely. You will have a summer with hopefully minimal summoning from him and Harry can relax for the rest of the break knowing he is safe. Hmm, I think this might work out wonderfully."

Severus gaped at the obvious lunatic in front of him for a number of minutes before he burst into rapid speech.

"Headmaster, this is probably the worst idea you've had including the one where you thought _'that Gilderoy Lockhart looks like a fine example of a wizard to teach the students all they need to know to protect themselves'_ and then let's completely bypass the whole _'let's allow a man notorious for his love of creatures, the more dangerous the better, breed from a horrendous mix of beasts and then spend a whole year trying to teach the immature brats in his classes to appreciate what can only be described as a pointless but ferocious scuttling shell of potions ingredients that even I wouldn't waste my time trying to find a use for!' _Still, disregarding your recent history of _inspired_ proposals, I am probably the worst person to be living one-on-one with your Golden Boy for any amount of time. I find the majority of his Potions classes almost intolerable and those Occlumency lessons were nothing short of hazardous to my sanity and his health!"

"Your flair for dramatic hyperbole does amuse me Severus." Albus intoned, watching as the man opposite him ceased his panting and seemed ready to let loose another tirade. "I seriously don't think you could be the _worst_ person in the world for me to suggest..." he added, knowing it would wind the boy up even more.

"Don't be facetious. Obviously barring the Dark Lord, Lucius, Bella and well pretty much anyone in the Boy-Who-Lived-Must-Die club. Oh and I imagine Fudge would probably torture the little horror in a completely different way at the moment what with his snivelling about his imminent sacking. And I'm sure that Sybil is not anyone's idea of a suitable childminder either. It's unfortunate enough the students are forced suffer her as a professor just to keep the batty woman safe. But, out of any of the people you _would_ actually let Potter stay with, I am probably the worst choice. For Merlin's sake the boy clearly detests the very sight of me and I can quite happily say I return the sentiment."

"Now I know you and Harry do not have the most amiable relationship, but surely it can't be that-"

"Albus I considered inventing a spell to reproduce the effects of Dementors that I could keep in effect whenever the brat was around my person after enjoying how subdued they made him during his third year. Do you really think that a man who not only fantasised about, but actually put in the hours to work out the Arithmantic equations to create a spell to mentally torture someone would make a good live in babysitter for said person?"

The look of disappointment that Albus sent to Severus would normally have made the man feel at least slightly ashamed about whatever he had said but at the moment he was still rather stuck on the thought that the Headmaster was seriously suggesting he live with Potter for the rest of summer. That would be nearly two months together, with no doubt only minimal interruptions from others.

"I understand this isn't exactly how you envisioned your summer going Severus but I really do think this would solve many issues at once. As you're aware, we have yet to find Sirius' Will so Grimmauld Place is out of commission for the foreseeable future. Neither of Mr Potter's friends houses have suitable warding around them either. You can purchase a small house in a completely unknown town and we can put up the Fidelius Charm with only you and Harry knowing the secret. It will give you a bit of a break from being at both mine and Lord Voldemort's beck and call and hopefully it will also divert his attention for a while trying to work out where Harry has been moved to." When Severus still looked unconvinced Albus tried "you can't tell me you wouldn't like to avoid being the target of the, I expect, rather monumental temper tantrums Voldemort is going to undoubtedly throw once Harry is outside of his reach once more, especially with the majority of his better followers still entombed in Azkaban?"

Albus wasn't sure whether Severus was seriously considering whether suffering several of Voldemorts likely rage induced Cruciatus Curses was better than having to spend a summer living with Harry or whether he just wasn't ready to concede to his idea yet. He let the man pretend, in his mind anyway, to think about it for a time, whilst he started noting down exactly what they would need to do to pull this off. Catching sight of the lists he was trying to organise before this latest interruption another stroke of genius occurred to him on what was quickly becoming a very productive day.

"You can tell Lord Voldemort that I have decided it was about time you were the professor to go and greet the Muggleborns this year!" Seeing the poor man across from him clearly didn't know what to say to another brainwave when he was still trying to get his mind around the last one, Dumbledore explained. "You can grumble on about my trying to unite the school houses during these troubled times and how I may have let you escape this duty in the past due to your... less than welcoming manner but how I think it is now the perfect opportunity for Slytherin House to do its bit. This way you'd be needed in the school as the letters, complete with addresses, are written here. Once you've collected Harry and brought him back here tomorrow you can also tell him that you think it is a punishment of sorts as well for not figuring out what was ailing the boy quickly enough. Let him think you ummed and ahhed before finally curing Harry, something he'll probably delight in. Surely then he would only summon you to him for emergencies if he assumes that I will know whenever you leave the Castle and be expecting a report back each time." The Headmaster finished, with a beaming smile directed at his Potions Master.

* * *

Severus' head was still spinning over an hour later when he stumbled out from the Floo back at Spinner's End. While he was still nowhere near in complete agreement with Albus' mad plan, not that he'd have much choice in the end other than to go along with it, the first part was at least marginally tolerable. He'd therefore spend the rest of the afternoon brewing the antidote to the Dark Lord's potion and probably some Blood Replenishers and Pepperup or perhaps even an Invigoration Draught to get Potter actually out of his house tomorrow. Maybe he'd find the time to make something that would line the boy's throat temporarily? Although the antidote will stop anymore of the poisonous substances being absorbed and neutralise any left in his system it will not immediately repair any damage done to his throat and stomach from the amount of vomiting he has probably been experiencing. Especially if the potion was administered three days ago, when he delivered it to the Dark Lord. Either way, in between the other arrangements he'd need to make, he could at least relax this afternoon doing something he enjoyed and then there was just tonight to get through, with a sick Potter. _Terrific._

* * *

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